


lives have stories (this just so happens to be a tragedy)

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Heavy Angst, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 01:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10233134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: minghao always knew that life was a tragedy disguised as a fairy tale.





	

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the ending of the book, "of mice and men," by john steinbeck.  
> dedicated to my best friend, char, who wanted something for the china line.
> 
> very short and sweet (or not).

 in a dirtied room located on a lone floor of a rundown building, two figures rest within a shadow and avoid the rays of the sun reflecting thru the locked windows. minghao sits on his knees, slouching in posture and head bowed over. jun reclines comfortably on the floor, head resting on the other's lap like a soft pillow. all was silent between them except for the muffled groaning and the occasional sharp sound of the wind whistling from the outside.

"you're not mad at me?" minghao whispers to cut the silence, using one hand to lightly caress jun's pale face and his other hand threading its bloodied fingers thru his black locks. his eyes were trained only on jun's face, making an effort in memorizing the softness of his eyes, the arch of his sharp nose and the shape of his lips' cupid bow.

jun chuckles airily, adjusting his head to look properly at his companion, "why would i be?"

"it was my fault," minghao deadpans. 

"it isn't," jun insists softly, raising a hand to cup minghao's cheek. however, the boy flinches at the point of contact and jun has to pull away his hand. his eyes twinkle with hurt and confusion, but he chooses not to question the way minghao is shying away from him. he only thanks that he hasn't been pushed off of minghao's lap yet.

minghao's voice trembles but he does not stutter, "it is, jun ... the reason none of us are together is because of me ... if i hadn't accidentally shot seokmin and seungkwan--"

now its not only minghao's voice that trembles. jun feels his entire body quake in tremors, feels his hot haggard breaths in his face and the hand in his hair ball into a painful fist.

"you didn't know, hao," jun says, trying to not focus on the sharp pain in his scalp, "you didn't know it was them. you thought they were raiders, didn't you?"

"but i shouldn't have!" minghao cries, voice shifting from korean to mandarin. jun's heart shatters as he watches the boy's placid expression contorts into ugly anguish and eyes well up with hot tears. he repeats himself, quieter and sadder, "i shouldn't have ... i-if i hadn't mistaken them for one of the raiders ... seokmin wouldn't be dead and seungkwan wouldn't have become one of  _them_  ... he wouldn't have bit hansol ..."

"hansol was acting out impulsively ..." jun mused, "he already knew what was going to happen and yet, he still kept close to seungkwan without a weapon."

minghao rambles on as if he didn't hear him, "and then we wouldn't have had attracted an entire horde to our base ... jihoon and soonyoung wouldn't have had to sacrifice themselves for us to get away ..." he starts to gasp. the quivering of his body intensifies, making jun feel like he was experiencing an earthquake.

jun slides a hand over minghao's clenched fist in his hair and his other on the hand cupping around his cheek. at the notion, minghao relaxes enough that the tremors slow and the hand in jun's hair grips painfully no longer. the boy groans and shakes off jun's hand. he uses his filthy hand to rid his face of tears, rubbing at the skin raw, a mix of dirt and blood smears on his face.

"then w-we, with chan, wonwoo and seungcheol ... we wouldn't have had to --  _to_ separate from jisoo, jeonghan and mingyu!" because it was at that juncture when they knew this was how they were going to fall apart. "wonwoo wouldn't have -- he wouldn't have _shot himself_ and seungcheol wouldn't have had to distract that horde so we could get away and ... oh my god ... and  _channie_ ..."

"chan didn't suffer," jun reassures him, but minghao weeps all the same.

it didn't matter if chan was rid of his misery because he was still dead. the youngest, just like everyone else besides each other, slipped away so easily.

jun's lips twitch into a frown, realizing that minghao was refusing to say the last thing ... _the last important thing_. he settles for announcing it himself, "and i got bit, right?"

minghao becomes eerily quiet at the statement, body becoming rigid like a statue. jun slides his hand towards the hem of his soiled shirt and pulls up the fabric until it reaches his collarbone, revealing the deep, vomitous bite imprinted on his side. it no longer bled, but it was an revolting mix of red, yellow and green. thin lines of purple and blue extended from the wound.

the boy's face is rid of its anguish, replaced by somber blankness as his stare fixates on the bite. while this expression is better than seeing him sob and whimper for something that will probably never come true, jun finds his heart clench at the lack of shine in his eyes and the general emptiness in his gaze.

(it was supposed to be him to look that gaunt and hollow.

after all, he was the one dying and about to turn.

but then he remembers that after this, the minghao he knew might die too.)

jun struggles to sit up, but does. he grunts as he shifts his body so he faces minghao, whose gaze follows each movement tearfully. as an attempt to lighten the mood, lift the veil of darkness ever so slightly, jun smiles crookedly and requests in a considerably hoarse voice, "tell me that dream again, hao."

the thin boy appears visibly startled now, but his dark eyes dimly shine with understanding. if he was going to be experiencing his last few moments, he might as well die with the sound of a familiar story ringing in his ears.

"we ..." minghao hesitates to start, "everyone in seventeen, including us ... are going to reach the top. people ha-have acknowledged us for our ta-talents ... al-all of our hard work will have been paid off ... we're ri-rich and ca-can provide for ourselves and our fa-families ..."

his eyes grow wide in horror when jun brandishes his pistol from his belt and clicks off the safety. jun urges without looking up at him, "keep going."

he slowly nods, "whi-while we have haters here and there who might try to bri-bring us down ... we're a fa- _family_ that never breaks apart ... w-we support a-and defend each other ..."

canines gnaw anxiously, enough that he can taste the metallic rust of his blood, as jun takes minghao's hand and presses the pistol into his palm. the gun is heavy but the metal is cool to the touch.

"keep going," jun orders. he doesn't know why he keeps smiling or how his smile can genuinely reach his beautiful eyes.

"a-and ..." minghao stammers, feeling the tears already welled up in his eyes fall over the edge and down his dirty cheeks, "we're ha-happy ... we're so ha-happy,  _jun_ ..."

he sobs and shuts his eyes when jun helps his finger into the trigger, adjusts his arm into the air and feels the new pressure at the other side of the pistol. he doesn't have to look to see what it is the barrel is butting against. _he knows he knows he knows_.

jun struggles to wheeze, slow and shaky. the gun in his hand rattles. "minghao ..."

"please.  _please._ do-don't be mad a-at me ..." minghao begs between his wheezing cries. he opens his eyes and finds the world spinning before him, so much that he could barely identify jun and the pistol in his hand within its blurriness. he breathes air too stale and poisonous for him to filter, resulting in him sputter and choke in the hand not holding the gun.

over the white noise, the palpitations of his heart and the blood surging to his face, minghao hears jun chuckle weakly in response to his whimper. he hates the sound of it. "i'm ... not mad, minghao. i wasn't mad at you before and i'm not mad now. i will ...  _never_ ... be mad at you. remember that for me." 

pause. then a breathless whisper.

"do it."

time slows. he imagines the faces of all of seventeen under a pious light. they're smiling and laughing. they're dancing and singing all the songs they've released altogether. most of all, he envisions jun's pretty face, smiling with them. he has memorized the softness of his eyes, the arch of his sharp nose and the shape of his lips' cupid bow.

and he pulls the trigger. 

**Author's Note:**

> god i half assed this shit.


End file.
